


The Care and Feeding of Weasleys, According to Charlie

by Islanderlass



Series: Jokers to the left of me, clowns to the right [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bill hates paperwork, Brotherly Love, Charlie doesn’t like to be ignored, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Islanderlass/pseuds/Islanderlass
Summary: Charlie is suspicious. The loo seat still hangs on the wall, the kitchen floor is sticky, and he can’t find George. Bill thinks he’s crazy, but Bill isn’t trained in the Ways of Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them.





	The Care and Feeding of Weasleys, According to Charlie

“I’m telling you, Bill, there’s something funny going on,” insisted Charlie Weasley. The two oldest boys were sitting at the Kitchen Table. The Burrow was suspiciously quiet. Well, Charlie found it so.

Bill was wondering how to get rid of Charlie and his incessant need to discuss...what was he blabbering on about again?

“Mm-hm.” Bill said as he squinted at the dig records in front of him. Did the Petra team find a flashlight, perhaps? That “a” certainly looked like an “e”, but who in their right mind would catalogue a Muggle sex toy? Presumably a used one?

“Are you even listening?” Charlie slouched in his chair and scowled.

“Mm-hm. Something funny going on.” Merlin, had he ever been so bad at documentation? Didn’t the fucking Welsh know that if one found a bejeweled dragon skeleton, they needed to provide coordinates so that Gringotts could hire a fossil expert?

“Mum’s up to something!”

“She usually is.” There was an idea. See if Mum could send Howlers to various teams. Scare them into doing their damn jobs!

Charlie half stood and upended the kitchen table. Stacks of paperwork went flying everywhere.

“What the hell was that for?” Bill snarled. He lunged at his brother, knocking him to the floor. 

Charlie easily flipped him onto his back and pinned him down. “C’mon, tiger, I had to do something! You were ignoring me, you prat!”

“I think I’m more of a lion,” snapped Bill, wrenchingCharlie off balance. He scrambled up to kneel on his brother’s broad, flannel cotton covered torso. What sort of freak wore flannel in early summer? “That was work, Chuck! Y’know— the thing I do to make money? The Goblins are already annoyed, I don’t want to make it worse! I’ll never get back into the field!”

“You said yourself you’re too old for the field,” wheezed Charlie. “Quit that damn job. It just pisses you off, and it pisses me off to watch you torture yourself. Get off, berk.”

Bill rolled his eyes and slid off into the sticky, crumb covered kitchen floor. “Ew. When was the last time Mum mopped?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” snapped Charlie. “Last Wednesday! And then she stole that toilet seat! That started everything!”

Bill heaved a sigh. “C’mon, she was clearly messing with George. Or Dad. Or both. I’d think you’d be thrilled—you thought she was too quiet earlier this year.”

“She was,” said Charlie. “Classic signs of depression. Dragons get like that when they’re unhappy, Bill.”

“You need a pet to mother,” said Bill. “Seriously, man, go back to Romania. Or just get a dog.”

“I have no time for a dog because I have idiot siblings. George closed Wheezes!”

“What, for the afternoon? Did you check Freddy’s grave?” Not that George couldn’t use a break, but he didn’t take time off anymore than Dad did.

“No! The storefront is empty! There’s a For Lease sign up!”

Bill’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“Did you tell Mum? Dad?”

“I told Mum, and she said George was working on a project for her, that there was nothing to worry about.” Charlie gestured around the Burrow’s kitchen. “But—d’you see them anywhere? Hm?”

“Huh.” Bill furrowed his brow. “Did you ask Perce?”

“He overheard them talking about Aunt Muriel’s Barn. I asked Dad about that, and Dad said Grandfather was a bit like Mum—y’know, kept stuff just in case. Drove Muriel crazy, and she told Mum that it was time to clear it out or else. But why ask George to do that, huh?” Charlie sat up and cracked his neck. 

“If she didn’t want our opinion,” said Bill slowly. “Which would’ve been to burn the whole lot.”

“Yeah. Dad too. Credit where credit is due—that toilet seat was the first time I’ve seen him laugh in ages. His job—it’s killing him, Bill. I hate it.”

“Britain is killing us all,” said Bill seriously. “We all need to get the hell out of here. If only we could convince Mum!”

“And here I was thinking if only I could convince you,” their mother said from the back door. “What are you nitwits doing on my floor? It’s quite sticky, you know!”

“Oh! Mum!” Molly’s boys—for that’s who they’d always be—scrambled to their feet.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked.

“We’re leaving Britain,” said Molly. “Your father doesn’t know it. I decided the only way it would happen is if I didn’t give him a chance to talk me out of the idea. George has been helping me—but—well, we’ve ran into a few problems. George never took the Enchantments elective, William, and while your father could help—it’s like his car, you see—I don’t like to bother him.”

“I always wanted to muck about with the Anglia,” said Bill excitedly. “Can I help? Please, Mum?”

“If you promise to keep it secret,” said Molly. “Charlie, dear, do you know anything about thestrals?”

“Er...Yes?”

“Good. You can come along and explain what Rubeus means by “flame kissed sheep carcass with sprigs of pungent greens”.”

“What?” Bill asked. 

“Hagrid thinks animals like their food warmed up,” said Charlie. “His thestrals are his babies. Tell the owner to not cosset the little monsters—it’d be like if you cleaned up after Ronnie. They’ll come to expect it.”

“I bought the Hogwarts thestrals, and they’re an integral part of my plot,” said Molly sharply. “They need to know they’re loved, young man, and if that means we prepare them a four course meal every night, why, that’s just what we do!” 

Bill shook with amusement next to him. When their mother had turned to stalk towards the apparition point, he murmured, “Just remember, I’m the one who suggested a sweet, harmless dog, Chuck.”

His brother sniffed and stomped after their mum. Bill followed, not fooled for one second. Chuck got his maternal instincts from somewhere, after all. There probably wasn’t even much of a difference between fanged, invisible horses and eight Weasley Children.


End file.
